


Adventures In Humanity

by jensenacklesruinedmylife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, M/M, Season 9, Smoking, Tattoos, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensenacklesruinedmylife/pseuds/jensenacklesruinedmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It took Cas eight months to make his way back to the bunker.</p><p>Granted, he made more than a few pit stops along the way..."</p><p>In which Cas learns to be human on his own, and Dean has some figuring out to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this in two part son tumblr, so I'm gonna keep it that way here (even though part 2 is twice as long as part 1. I'm assuming you guys don't mind.) Enjoy! <3

It took Cas eight months to make his way back to the bunker.

Granted, he made more than a few pit stops along the way - cleaned himself up, got a few jobs (to make some money), moved around, made new friends, learned to be vulnerable, learned to be  _human._ One could say he…grew up, in a way. He certainly toughened up, that’s for sure.

Without his powers, Cas discovered (the hard way) that he wasn’t very menacing. Sure, he could put on a brave face and make threats, he could even throw a few good punches - he  _was_ a soldier, after all - but his threats were usually empty since smiting was no longer an option, and he didn’t have his angel blade, either. That, he had buried after killing Hael. It still pained him to think about her death. He hadn’t wanted to kill her, but he had to start taking care of himself.

_Now, I’m begging you – for once, look out for yourself. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody._

Although Cas hadn’t contacted Dean for the past eight months, he didn’t forget their last conversation. Hypervigilance became a priority for Cas. He used a fake name and made up a sob story about why he didn’t have any identification, or money, or memory of what had happened to him. To his surprise, people actually bought it. If a few people began to get suspicious, though, or if Cas got word of angel activity nearby, he would disappear, moving on to whatever town that was at least four hours away.  _  
_

He kept up this routine for about eight months before he finally decided he’d had enough of the adventure that life without wings had to offer.

Of course, getting jumped behind a gas station by a couple of angry angels may have helped in persuading him to get his ass back to the bunker.

That night, Cas packed up the things he’d manage to collect as his own and stuffed them into a large bag pack he’d stolen five towns over. He showered and cleaned his wounds, wincing as the water poured over the cuts and bruises from the beating he’d received. The angels hadn’t even recognized him; they called him “Jimmy” - the name Cas had decided to use until he was safe again. They must have assumed he was a human, but Castiel could tell they were angels; he recognized the way that they fought. He would have fought back, but he was afraid that his tactics and moves would give away his true identity. So he let them kick his ass.

_Dicks._

Dean’s voice rang in Cas’s ears and he found himself smiling. He had taken to speaking like him, and Sam, and even Kevin, around other humans. Soon, Cas developed his own clever attitude and unique pattern of speech, and his “rusty” people skills were no more. Eight months of observing a species from  _within_ that very species made it almost impossible not to pick up on their behavioral habits.

He’d picked up a lot of things from the people he spent the most time with.

He picked up cursing from hanging out in the back of whatever bar he could find. The music and conversation somehow relaxed him. His high tolerance for alcohol came in handy a few times, whenever he decided to chat up some strangers who were definitely not angels. Drunk men cursed a lot. Sober men cursed quite a bit, as well. Or at least they did in bars. Sam and Dean cursed a bit too, though, so Cas figured it was normal, and added a few expletives to his everyday vocabulary.

It did not take long for him to realize that some words were not socially acceptable in certain places. At playgrounds, for one. The workplace, too. The one time he was fired, Cas had used the phrase  _fuck that_ with a customer who had been complaining about gas prices. He had meant to agree with her, but she was not amused.

He left that town the next day.

He picked up smoking over the winter. Zayn, the quiet young man who had worked Cas’s shift at the convenience store, offered him his first cigarette during their break one day.

"It’ll calm you down," Zayn had promised, "and you look like you could chill out."

 _I am already quite chilled,_ Cas had thought, inspecting the chemical-filled stick while shivering in his itchy sweater as they sat on the back stoop. He knew smoking was unhealthy, but he’d nodded and put the stick to his lips, mimicking the other man’s actions. After a few days and a temporary coughing fit, Castiel found himself addicted to nicotine. It was an interesting concept, addiction. It felt incredibly human, and Cas figured that was a good thing.

He also felt a bit safer with a lighter in his pocket at all times. It reminded him of Dean.

A few weeks later, Cas was in yet another town, and had enough money to rent a small apartment a couple minutes outside of the city, where he worked at a local pet store. The area was usually quiet, but the neighbor to his left was the exact opposite. It took Cas a week to get up the nerve to complain, but when he did, he found that his neighbor was only a college dropout with too much time on her hands. Her hair was dyed purple, she had a metal bar in her earlobe ( _an_   _industrial,_ she explained), and tattoos covered her coffee-colored skin.

Her name was Penny, and she was the one who convinced Cas to get his first tattoo.  _Lots of humans have tattoos,_ Cas thought to himself as he gritted his teeth.  _Plus, you need this one._  He was getting an anti-possession symbol carved onto his chest.

Penny had been there, too. ”I’ll hold your hand,” she’d said, “Tattoos are rad, but they aren’t painless.”

After the first tattoo healed, Cas went back to the shop on his own to get feathers tattooed onto the backs of his forearms. He’d seen a picture of it online (the internet was a magical thing) and thought they would be a nice reminder of his lost wings - a farewell of sorts.

Penny had excitedly approved of the addition.

Cas had left two days later, without saying goodbye.

Now, as Cas looked himself over in the dingy bathroom mirror, he almost wished he hadn’t gotten the feathers at all. They only reminded him of how weak he still was, compared to the warrior that he used to be.

He missed his wings the most.

With a sigh, Castiel got dressed in a loose pair of jeans, a tan shirt, and a plaid button up. He slid on a pair of black boots, threw his pack over his shoulder. After slipping a cigarette between his lips, he dug a lighter out of his pant pocket and lit it before heading out to catch a bus that would take him to Sam and Dean.

When he reached the bus station, Cas sat in the seats outside. It was April, and the air was cool at night. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a row of payphones.  _I should call Dean, right?_ he thought hesitantly, tapping his fingers on his legs.  _But what would I say?_ Castiel knew that Sam and Dean were probably looking for him. Dean had told him to go to straight to the bunker, but Cas had needed some time. He hadn’t been ready for the reminder of how useless he was to the Winchesters now, didn’t need them worrying about him. He hadn’t wanted to be a burden, so he stayed away. Now, at least, he knew how to be human - now, he could take care of himself.

But if he showed up to the bunker unannounced, he’d probably get a punch in the face.

Cas looked at the watch on his wrist. He had about half an hour before his bus left the station. With a huff, he put his bag pack on the ground and dug around for spare change, then walked over to the phones. He put the correct amount of change in, dialed Dean’s number, and took a deep breath before putting the reciever to his ear.

It rang four times before Dean picked up.

"Yeah, hello?" Dean’s voice came though, rough and heavy, and Castiel realized that it was almost four in the morning.  _Shit._ He almost hung up, but then Dean grunted on the other line and Cas knew he would probably put his cell on silent for the rest of the night.

"Dean, it’s me!" Cas blurted, holding the phone close and praying (to no one) that Dean hadn’t ended the call yet, "I’m coming home."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat up in his bed, immediately on high alert. 

  
"Cas?" he asked, "Is that really you?"  _Because if it is, I'm gonna kill him. And if it's not, well, I'm gonna kill him._  
  
"It's me," the scratchy voice replied, "I swear it's me."   
  
 _I'm gonna kill him.  
_

  
"Where the hell have you been!?" Dean yelled, attempting to sound angry. Because, honestly, it had been almost a year, and _now_  the guy decided to call? "Do you know how long we looked for you? We thought you were hurt, or dead! God dammit, Cas, I buried- ."   
  
"You what?"   
  
 _Shit._  Dean hadn't meant to mention that. After six months without a word, Sam and Dean had made Cas a makeshift grave. They placed a little wooden cross in the ground behind the bunker, even prayed to the guy, assuming he was in heaven again. For good.  
  
But here he was, on the other side of the phone. Alive.  
  
"Nothing, nevermind. Are you hurt?"  
  
"I - yes, but it's nothing, I'm fine."  
  
"Good," Dean breathed, "that's good." He still couldn't believe it.  _Cas is alive. Cas is coming home._  "Where are you?"  
  
"Not too far, compared to where I've been," Cas sighed,"I'll see you soon, alright?"   
  
Dean sensed something different about the fallen angel - the way he spoke, and his voice in general. It was scratchy, deeper.   
  
"Alright. Uh, be careful, man."   
  
"Of course, Dean. Goodbye."   
  
The tone on the line signaled that Cas had hung up. Dean put his cell back on the night stand and stared up at the ceiling.  _Cas is alive_. He considered waking up Sam and Kevin, but he probably wouldn't be able to keep himself together if he spoke to anyone right now.   
  
Dean had never been very good with emotional crap, but now he was  _feeling_  things, intense things, and he didn't know what to name them or how to process them. Was he angry? He was definitely pissed that Cas took so long to contact him, but if he was simply angry, he would have thrown something by now.   
  
 _Screw it_ , Dean thought, lying back down. He would deal with this when the sun came up.   
  
A part of him hoped he was just dreaming. 

/////

Sam, Dean, and Kevin were all sitting in the main hall when there was a knock at the front door the next evening. Dean, because he didn't want to deal with his  _feelings,_ had forgotten to tell Sam and Kevin about Cas's arrival. The two practically flew out of their seats, Sam with his gun already in hand.

"Do you think the angels found us?" Kevin asked, panicking. 

"Oh, it's an angel, alright," Dean muttered, rising from his chair.

"What?!" Sam and Kevin cried simultaneously. 

"Calm down, it's just Cas."

"Cas?" Sam asked.

"Cas is dead," supplied a still very panicked Kevin.

"He called last night," Dean went on, "Said he was on his way."

"And you believed him? Dean, this could be a trap! I can't believe -."

"Yes, Sam, I know, but you've got the gun, right? It's fine." 

There was another knock, this one more impatient. 

"How are you so calm about this?" Kevin asked.

Sam, because he was  _Sam,_ rolled his eyes. "This is how Dean behaves when he's emotional: he acts like he's emotion _less_."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean barked, marching up the steps and towards the door. "Just cover me, okay? But I'm telling you, it's just Cas."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Kevin whispered. Dean rolled his eyes and ignored the nagging feeling that this really  _was_ a trap. Could it be too good to be true? 

After glancing back at Sam and getting a solid nod, Dean took a deep breath and swung open the door.

Standing there, in ripped jeans and a fucking  _flannel_ for god's sake, was very rugged, very  _human_ Castiel.

"Hello, Dean," he said, and although exhaustion masked his voice, Dean knew for certain that this was his angel.

"H-hey, Cas," Dean stuttered, which,  _what the hell?_ He made a thumbs up signal behind his back and heard the faint click of Sam's gun as he disarmed it. "God, it's been... I can't believe you're alive."

"Me neither," Cas chuckled, and Dean could see a smile forming on his bruised face. "Can I...come in?"

"What? Oh, yeah!" Dean stepped aside so that Cas could come inside.  _He even walks different,_  Dean observed, but figured he could ask questions later."Hey, Sam, Kev, guess who's back?"

/////

After a session of thorough questioning at Kevin's request, (Dean thought it was ridiculous, but Cas assured him that he didn't mind), and a lot of hugging, Sam and Kevin headed to their rooms for the night, leaving Dean in charge of finding Cas a room. 

There was an empty room across from Dean's that they half-used for storage, but the bed had clean sheets on it, and they could always move the boxes another day.

"So," Dean started after Cas had settled in, "you're a mortal now."

"Well it's been eight months, Dean, but yes. I am mortal." 

 _Where did he pick up the sass?_ Dean wondered, all the while berating himself for stating something so obvious.  _Way to go, genius._ But Dean didn't know what to say. He was furious, but Cas didn't look like he was ready to pick a fight anytime soon. He had a million questions, but Kevin had just sat him down for half an hour to give him the all-things-supernatural test. Honestly, Dean just  _missed_ Cas, he had been worried sick, devastated, but that wasn't something he was ready to admit.

"You're upset," Cas said calmly, sliding off his flannel top. "Don't worry, I can't read your mind, but I can still read  _you,_ Dean. You hide your anger like...like a bandaid would hide a knife wound."

Cas kicked off his shoes and looked up at Dean. "Meaning, not very well."

"Yeah, I got that, Cas," Dean answered, slightly flustered. Cas was so damn  _different,_ and it was throwing Dean way off. His hair was still a perpetual mess, but his eyes, they looked bluer somehow, deeper. His skin wasn't as pale, and his body looked more rugged. 

Cas leaned down to rummage though his bag, and Dean caught a glimpse of his forearms.

"Whoa, are those...tattoos?" _When did he have time to get inked?_

"What? Oh," Cas bent both arms at the elbows, "yeah, I got these when I lived somewhere in Wyoming."

"Of course you did," Dean mumbled, walking closer so that he could get a good look at the tattoos. He held Cas's arms up by the wrists. "Why feathers?"

"Wings," Cas replied, shrugging. "I missed my wings." 

Dean looked at Cas then, really looked at him, and it was suddenly clear that Dean wasn't the only one who had been devastated for the past eight months. 

It was also clear that, now that Cas was human, he needed things, like comfort, and support.  _Dammit._

"Alright, c'mere," Dean pulled Cas into a hug, unaware of how Cas would take it, "you could probably use one of these right about now." 

To Dean's surprise, Cas sunk right into Dean's arms, accepting the hug immediately.

_Touch starved, much?_

At first, Dean felt a little awkward, because this wasn't Sam, or Bobby, or even Kevin - this was  _Cas._ Ex-angel of the lord,  _I gave everything for you_ Cas. Cas who Dean needed. Cas who always came when Dean called. Cas was different, Cas was  _special,_ and as Dean realized this, his first instinct was to run. But then, Cas tightened his arms around Dean's midsection and breathed into his neck, and all the willpower Dean had built up in preparation to let go went right out of him. 

After a few minutes, Cas released a shaky breath and pulled away. "Sorry," he coughed, wiping at his eyes, "got your shirt wet." 

Dean's heart sank, "Hey, no worries," Dean assured, "You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?"

Cas nodded, and then squatted to dig through his bag for something. Dean furrowed his eyebrows when he saw a pack of Marlboro next to another pack of Lucky Strikes, as well as a mini first-aid kit. Cas pulled out the pack of Marlboro and stood up.

"Do you mind?"

"Nah, we can go out front. But uh, you should get some of these cuts checked out." Dean had just noticed particularly jagged cut near Castiel's collarbone. "Wouldn't want them to get infected." 

"Well I have a first-aid kit," Cas shrugged again, "I don't know much about healing myself so...slowly." 

Dean chucked. "You'll figure it out. But for now, I'll get an actual first-aid kit, and clean some of these wounds up for ya. Sound good?"

Cas smiled slightly, "As long as I can smoke."

/////

Cas was sitting, shirtless, on the Impala's trunk as he blew out a puff of smoke, wincing slightly as Dean wiped at a small cut on his abdomen. 

"What did those dicks do to you, man?" Dean asked, trying not to think about the fact that Cas was shirtless and sitting on his car, or how hot that was. 

"The kicked me a lot. They also had their angel blades, which is why I have the cuts. The one near my neck was the first one, and the worst. It seems that blood and grace are similar in a way - loosing either one hurts."

Dean placed a wide bandage on Cas's (six-pack,  _fuck_ ) abdomen and stood up, his eyes lingering a bit too long on the anti-possession tattoo on his chest, identical to Dean's own. "Yeah," he sighed, "but you'll heal up soon, just not as soon as you would if you were still ...well, ya know."

"Yes, I know," Cas muttered, cigarette bobbing between his lips. He lifted it between his fingers and held it out to Dean, "Do you want...?" 

Dean shook his head, "Nah, I haven't smoked since I was a teenager."

"You quit?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "I didn't want Sammy to pick up the habit because of me. Turns out, he's a freakin' health nut, and probably wouldn't have smoked anyway." 

Cas smiled, "I wasn't aware that one could quit such an addiction."

"Willpower, my friend. Humanity isn't too hopeless," Dean smirked, "Sometimes, we're pretty awesome." 

"Yes..." Cas trailed. His face grew serious, and Dean could practically hear the wheels spinning in his mind. 

Dean took a seat next to Cas, turning a little to face him. "Hey," he said softly, nudging him with his shoulders. Their arms brushed and Dean could feel the hairs standing on the back of his neck, and it wasn't because of the evening chill. "Talk to me." 

"I want to apologize, for staying away for so long."

Dean sighed, he wasn't ready for a long, emotional apology, nor did he care for one. He was just glad that Cas was alive. "Cas, you don't have to -." 

"I do, Dean. I'm sure you and Sam spent a long time searching for me, I just... I did not want to be a burden for you. I did not want to put you in danger."

Dean wiped a hand down his face.  _Like p_ _urgatory all over again._  "Cas, Sam and I can take care of ourselves. The important thing is, you came back. You're safe. You're here now."

Cas tossed the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement and turned his head to look at Dean. Dean almost had to look away because Cas was giving him that  _look,_ the one that made Dean feel like he  _mattered_ , the one that Dean never thought he deserved. 

"I uh... I missed you, Dean," Cas stated, hesitant and nervous like a teenage girl and  _fuck_ if it wasn't the most adorable thing Dean had ever seen.  _Crap._

He was done for.

Ignoring the sirens going off in his head, Dean pulled Cas's face back towards his own with two fingers under the former angel's chin, "I missed you, too, Cas," Dean admitted, huffing a laugh, "so much. God, _so_  much."

Cas's hands suddenly moved to Dean's waist and in seconds, their lips were touching, body's pressed flush together, a Dean was trying not to think about the single layer of clothing separating their stomachs. Before Dean could process what he was doing, Cas bit his lip and Dean  _moaned,_ because, again,  _what the hell?_ Dean couldn't pretend he didn't want this, but where did Cas learn to kiss like that? How did he get so  _good?_

They fumbled around for about a minute before separating, both breathing heavily. Cas's pupils were blown, his lips were slightly swollen, and Dean could only assume that he looked about the same.

"I've wanted to do that," Cas began softly, "for a long time."

"Yeah?" Dean replied, still catching his breath.

"Yes," Cas smiled, sliding a hand down the side of Dean's arm and entwining their fingers, "I didn't know if... how to..."

"Hey," Dean whispered, squeezing Cas's hand, "it was good."

"It was?" Cas blinked, clearly self-conscious. 

"Yeah," Dean laughed, "it was awesome."

They sat in silence for a little while after that, eventually lying back against the back window of the car, their hands still joined. Cas was rubbing his thumb over Dean's pointer finger, and Dean could not believe that such a small movement could make his entire body feel like jelly. 

"Dean?" 

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I want to kiss you again," Cas started, "and I think I will want to for a long time. Is that normal?"

Dean laughed and shifted his body to lean on his elbow. He let go of Cas's hand to rest his arm around Cas's shirtless middle. "Yeah, Cas, that's normal. Comes with the whole human thing. We crave affection or whatever." 

"I think I like it," Cas continued, staring up into the sky, "affection." 

Dean stared at the ex-angel for a minute, and contemplated how someone, once so powerful, a soldier, could be so vulnerable now, so  _fragile_. He looked at the bandages, the bruises, and wanted nothing more than to keep Cas safe. 

For Cas to stay.

"Don't leave again, okay?" Dean said, and Cas looked up at him, squinting. Then, he smiled. Dean had missed that smile.

"Alright," Cas nodded, reaching up to cradle Dean's face, "I will stay." 

Dean leaned down to kiss Cas again, so hard that their teeth knocked together, but Dean couldn't care less. He would never let Cas go again, regardless of the danger, or the complications, come hell or high water. 

Because Dean would rather have Cas, alive and well -

human or not. 


End file.
